


The Legend of the Black Swan

by faexsolis



Series: dancing in the moonlight ('til the end of time) [1]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Poetry, Summer, Vignette, fantasy!au, i'm sorry if i butchered the prompt, moon goddess!mina, my sleep deprived prose is a big rip but here we go, sun goddess!chaeyoung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:40:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24567079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faexsolis/pseuds/faexsolis
Summary: Somewhere between the idyll of summer, the cyclical fluctuation of the moon’s phases, and the ladylike elegance of her shimmering gossamer gown, Son Chaeyoung falls in love with Myoui Mina.
Relationships: Myoui Mina/Son Chaeyoung
Series: dancing in the moonlight ('til the end of time) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004139
Kudos: 25





	The Legend of the Black Swan

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Day6’s Day and Night, NCT 127’s Sun & Moon, and my own unhealthy fixation with fantasy!aus and binary absolutes
> 
> Prompt: gossamer
> 
> (Also stream More & More y'all)

> _Deeply ensconced within the alcove of the Infinite Spirit_
> 
> _Where the sun never rises,_
> 
> _And never sets;_
> 
> _Where the oscillations of Moon fluctuate as naturally_
> 
> _As the gentle waves of the sea,_
> 
> _Lies the graceful Black Swan of the Moon._
> 
> _Trapped between light and shadow,_
> 
> _Monochrome and technicolor,_
> 
> _Her soul remains bound to its glamour,_
> 
> _In a perpetual cycle of birth, death, and rebirth._
> 
> _Destined to dance forever,_
> 
> _Lost in the swirling abyss of time,_
> 
> _She awaits, and exalts_
> 
> _The glorious ascent of her beloved,_
> 
> _The cursed Tiger of the Sun._

It's always been a summertime staple for Chaeyoung - pulling her laces tight (but not too tight), strapping her helmet on a tad bit too loose (because of her somewhat irrational fear of pinching her skin), and finally acquiescing to her mother's disapproving glares, pulling protective gear over the bruises littering her elbows and knees.

She allows the warm evening breeze to exhilarate her, gliding effortlessly across the newly-paved road past one beautifully manicured house after another, and finally stops at the crumbling, dilapidated one-story at the end of the cul-de-sac. The structure has a sort of rustic charm to it, from the weathered, gnarly oak tree standing stoically in front of it, almost guarding the place, to its intricate pattern of verdant creepers in stark contrast to the russet of the exposed brickwork underneath. It's always been Chaeyoung's favorite house in the neighborhood, despite her neighbors’ general distaste for its aged, decrepit exterior.

The old house remains blissfully empty as childhood summers fly by; she skates by it time and time again, exulting in the profound tranquility of its solitude for a moment before turning back.

But the day her eyes catch on the pale sheen of torn gossamer fabric, reflecting the moonlight as it flutters in the breeze, she halts, an unspoken question forming on her lips _._

Inexplicably entranced, Chaeyoung reaches forward.

•☾•

Chaeyoung opens her eyes to find herself standing in front of a veritable mansion: tall and palatial, its architectural complexity is opulent and majestic. A lush garden spreads itself around her, lined by burgeoning evergreen bushes, and a mighty oak tree claims the center, striking and resplendent even against the grandeur of the mansion.

Ghostly and ethereal against the darkness of the night, a muted light shines from behind the tree, almost beckoning to her. Spellbound, she steps forward-

-And finds herself less-than-delicately splayed across the gravel pathway, just under the oak tree. Cursing softly under her breath, she raises her head - and sees the girl.

It suddenly doesn’t matter, the sharp pain radiating from the tiny gravel embedded in her bloodied palms. Not while her attention has been captured by the alluring girl in the white gossamer gown; by the way the gentle summer breeze rustles her delicate skirt and tosses her shiny, silken hair. How the cloud of gauzy, iridescent bubbles she blows, juxtaposed with dark gradient of the twilight, enshrouds her with an air of intangible mystique. Her mellifluous, bell-like giggle, her boundless jubilation at the notion of passing the night by in this manner, even if she remains solitary.

Chaeyoung is already a goner.

•☾•

Allowing herself to be concealed by the tree’s canopy-like branches, Chaeyoung observes. 

Scenes flicker by, oversaturated and unfocused like an old film reel. Hazy memories of what once was - an old Joseon-era flame, an early 20th-century war tragedy, but always the crushing devastation of the gossamer girl - all blurring together as the sliver of moon makes its way across the inky sky, repeating itself in a perpetual cycle of fluctuation. The girl revels in the moonlight, sometimes blowing bubbles, sometimes plucking the opalescent flowers sporadically scattered around the yard, sometimes just dancing, allowing the wind to catch in her shimmering gossamer gown.

Yet Chaeyoung, precariously balanced in the thick branches of the tree, invariably remains invisible.

•☾•

Certain scenes unfold sequentially - each a snapshot, collaging together to present a whole. 

Chaeyoung sits in midst of it all, simply watching.

•☾•

A bulky letterman jacket rests on the girl’s shoulders, far too large for her delicate body, juxtaposing her ever-present gossamer gown. Her face is defined by the gentle curve of her upturned lips, the perfect cupid’s bow of contentment. But the restless movements of her hands stand in stark contrast to the serene placidity of the night, and those gorgeous silken strands lay in disarray - not by the forceful winds, but by the strangely familiar - albeit faceless - boy who puts a blinding smile on her face. By the boy who remains happily relaxed beside her, stroking her long tresses and murmuring sweet nothings in her awaiting ears.

Chaeyoung’s heart sinks.

•☾•

Raised voices, clashing against the booming thunder and flashing lightning - a storm brewing inside and out. The now-muddied letterman jacket, flung at the boy in a fit of rage; the raw, jagged anger unleashed by the trembling girl. The unforgiving words that she spits out, the feeble apologies that the boy offers, only to be rejected. Only to be defied, to be jeered at, to be mirthlessly mocked. She holds her head up, standing tall, proud, and obstinate; she refuses to be held down any longer. 

But as he leaves, finally defeated, she crumples to the ground, her now rain-soaked gossamer gown clinging to her body. Her gorgeous complexion is marred by the steady flow of crystalline droplets sliding down her heart-shaped face, mirroring the unwavering pattern of precipitation hitting the roof.

Chaeyoung wishes she had the courage to reach out to the weeping girl.

•☾•

The cyclical ebbing and flowing of the moon remains unrelenting as the girl draws her blackout curtains firmly shut, refusing to indulge in its splendor. She instead allows her fading gossamer gown to be dampened by the scattered remnants of her broken heart. Her luscious, silken hair grows tangled and matted with misuse, her porcelain skin and ruby lips hardening into an unyielding mask of resolve. She vows never to give her heart away again, never to allow someone to decimate it the way he did. 

But as the moon continues to ebb and flow, she begins to venture outside. She perches herself on the edge of the crumbling porch, allowing the wind to caress her sheer gossamer gown, and opens herself to allow her hollow devastation to be filled with a something, a softer sort of something that brings the beginnings of a smile to her face.

Chaeyoung doesn’t know what to make of it.

•☾•

Hope slowly rekindles itself in her heart as she dances the nights away in that gossamer gown of hers, allowing the moon and the stars to envelop her with their unwavering solidarity and camaraderie. Her gentle smiles and quiet strength return, exuding the feminine grace of a swan. A black swan; a radiant swan, whose blackened heart makes her stronger, more powerful than anything Chaeyoung has ever beheld. And as the bubbles return, moon after moon, the girl blossoms like the flower she is.

Chaeyoung feels her own heart swell.

•☾•

The tree seems to age with every snapshot, but the girl’s supple skin and nimble movements remain constant. Her gossamer dress flares out as she twirls and leaps, a powerful silhouette against the moon, while a sleek ebony waterfall of hair flows behind her, accentuating her every motion.

Far too engrossed in her own movements, she never notices the girl with the choppy, self-cut hair and the dirty, bitten nails watching her with rounded eyes of childlike wonder.

Until the girl leans a little _too_ far forward.

•☾•

And promptly falls out of the tree.

Pain shoots up her ankle, angry and intense, as the russet of her shredded palms splatters on the gravel, a splash of darkness melting into the shadows of the ashen pathway. 

The dancing girl comes to an abrupt halt, her shifting, sepia-toned eyes widening in a litany of emotions. Her arms drop to her side, limp and unmoving, as her cherry lips finally part in recognition.

Chaeyoung clenches her teeth to hold back a long string of expletives as she gapes at the girl standing before her, equal parts enamored and petrified.

But the girl of the shimmering gossamer gowns, of the nights spent weeping, dreaming, as constant as the waxing and waning of the moon, simply smiles at her, big and bright and vivacious and not at all like the delicate sheen of the moon she’d once been. She extends a warm hand to Chaeyoung, her eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Hello, my darling sun.”

Chaeyoung, from her first contact with the girl's pale skin, suddenly feels dizzy and out of breath. Eons of memories fill her head, all at once: she and her beloved moon - _no_ , Chaeyoung's brain tells her, _Mina_ \- in exquisitely embroidered _hanboks_ , Chaeyoung's a cheerful, summery orange and Mina's a deep, wintery blue, shifting their full skirts above their ankles in order to escape the army of horses thundering after them; Chaeyoung in military fatigues, her breast pocket containing the insignia of a rising people, as Mina embraces her like it's the last time they'll ever be together; and perhaps most importantly, Chaeyoung sporting an oversized letterman jacket, her hair in a stylish pixie cut, as Mina remains captivating as ever in her white gossamer dress.

All failed attempts at escape.

"My moon," Chaeyoung breathes, a serene smile playing across her lips. "It has been too long."

"It has indeed," Mina takes Chaeyoung's hand in hers, running her smooth palms over Chaeyoung's calloused ones. "But it is time, my love. We must escape before she poisons your mind once again."

"Impatient as always, I see," Chaeyoung laughs, her eyes curving into mirthful crescents. "Don't worry. I won't let you go. Now, or ever."

" _Chaeyoung,"_ Mina warns, but not without a hint of a smile teasing at her lips. "Please."

"Alright, if you so insist."

Gently caressing her lover's cheek, Chaeyoung closes her eyes and leans in, pressing her own chapped lips against Mina's plush ones, and allows the blinding whirlwind of light enveloping them to transport them to their heavenly abode.

As they later exult in the opulence of their palace, inseparable after millennia of separation, they slowly, painstakingly rediscover each other - for the Black Swan of the Moon and the Tiger of the Sun have finally transcended their curse.

**Author's Note:**

> My inner dad loves the sun!Chaeyoung pun sue me
> 
> But anyways thank you so much for reading!! Come yell at me in the comments or on my [tumblr](https://faexsolis.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/faexsolis)


End file.
